


Five Times They Thought Was The Last

by toujours_nigel



Category: Kaminey
Genre: 5 Things, Bollywood, Canonical Character Death, Desi Character, Drabble Sequence, Het, Multi, Slash, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toujours_nigel/pseuds/toujours_nigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what it says on the can. imagination, who, me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times They Thought Was The Last

The first time, Mikhail will laugh about later, call himself a fool for being uncertain, being scared. But he says it, always, his skin against Charlie’s, because he _had_ been scared, and his hands had shaken when he curved it around Charlie’s jaw, and kissed him, as he ran it through his hair and down his spine, and unbuttoned his shirt and tugged his jeans down, and went to his knees and kissed the hipbone jutting out.

 

He had still been scared when he woke up, because this had already meant something that he’d be sorry to drown in drink.

 

***

 

Charlie thinks he will get away with sleeping with Sophia afterwards, which delusion lasts exactly two hours after she throws him out of her flat. Then there’s Mikhail collaring him at the race-course and dragging him away—Mansoor grins and hollers and gets a fuck-you thrown at him—and there is something a little like rage in his eyes, and his hands are grasping and his mouth brutal. It takes him time, afterwards, to admit that he had liked that, liked being something it hurt to lose, as much as he’d liked Mikhail inside him, demanding and a little desperate.

 

***

 

The first time he proposes to Sophia, Mikhail leans in across her and croons, “Don’t marry her, fuck me,” and when he leans back, there is something speculative in Sophia’s eyes. How they go from that to the bedroom of Mikhail’s bolt-hole—some boys and girls he doesn’t bring back home—is anyone’s guess, but watching Mikhail stretched out over Sophia, languorously fucking her, makes him feel invisible, extratenuous, even with their hands on and in him, even with his mouth on her breast, even curled up between them, because they fit like puzzle pieces, and he has never belonged.

 

***

 

Sometime in the year he turns twenty-four, Mikhail falls in love. Not with him. Not with Sophia, though he thinks that is a pre-existing condition. Her name—because of course it’s a girl, and he can’t do anything constructive like find an excuse to beat the shit out of her—is Lata, and she’s so beautiful, and erudite, and classy—none of which he is, starting with in possession of breasts and a cunt—and Mikhail’s so clearly-infatuated that when Mikhail kisses him messily, coming back from breaking legs, he goes with it instead of punching him in the eye.

 

***

 

Charlie will claim—to himself, he hasn’t anyone to tell—that he knew, ahead of time, that this really was the last. It isn’t true, of course but he can’t think of another reason for having spent long minutes kissing Mikhail when it had only been supposed to be a quick celebration, for having actually embarrassed himself by telling him ‘I love you’, like a teenaged girl. Of course, Mikhail—being Mikhail and inarticulate and an idiot—had thrown him out of the car and nearly run him down, but at least he died knowing it. Like that fucking helps.


End file.
